


i’ve seen your eyes before

by interstellarbeams



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Near Future, POV Wyatt Logan, Post-Canon Fix-It, Rittenhouse Agent Jessica Logan, Wyatt Logan is not the father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 14:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16019438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarbeams/pseuds/interstellarbeams
Summary: Future Lucy pays present Wyatt a visit to relay some news that concerns his pregnant wife.





	i’ve seen your eyes before

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE hugs and thanks to Gretchen for all her input on this little oneshot and endless love to Emily for being my beta! 
> 
> Title from _You and Me_ by Ryan Star
> 
> Enjoy my little fix it fic! I hope it kicks you in the feels like it does to me every time I read it. LOL
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! <3

The plain, serviceware coffee mug makes a clinking sound as Wyatt sets the clean one inside the cabinet with the rest of the set. The cabinet slams loosely and Wyatt makes a mental note to tighten the screws on the hinges as soon as possible. He’s wiping down the counter when the doorknob jiggles and he frowns because Lucy just left and isn’t supposed to be back any time soon.

“What did you forget this time?” Wyatt calls over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening. He isn’t worried that it’s a Rittenhouse agent or someone breaking in, they live in a apartment building monitored by Homeland Security and only he and Lucy have the key. 

The key clanks as it’s dropped into the bowl on the entryway table and he turns around, his mouth dropping open at the sight in front of him. 

“Oh, uh- _hi_ ,” Wyatt settles against the counter, his arms crossed in front of him, the kitchen towel slung casually over his shoulder. 

“What are you- uh- what are you doing here?” Wyatt stares into the hardened yet still familiar brown eyes of future Lucy. Her face is closed off and her emotions aren’t as easy to read as those on _his_ Lucy’s face — he finds it very disconcerting. 

Stepping closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots, he glances at the single key on a gold key ring in the bowl, “And more importantly, how did you get the key?”

“I _might_ have had one secretly made right before we— I mean, I- well, before we moved from the safe house, _this_ safe house.” 

“I’m impressed. I mean, it’s not like I don’t think you can do it but my Lucy’s not really a good liar or the best at keeping secrets. Horrible at it actually.” Wyatt huffs out a laugh, thinking about Lucy’s attempts to throw him a surprise birthday party a few months back. Needless to say, it didn’t go over too well. 

“You’d be surprised how time and circumstances can change things, change _people_.” Lucy looks up at him, around the curve of her hair, as she touches a finger to a porcelain knick knack on the bookshelf. 

Wyatt stops, the couch a barrier between them, like the experiences she’s shared without him, a massive rift in the fabric of time.

The silence is unusually awkward, since this is still Lucy, and the ticking of the mantle clock fills the emptiness. Wyatt struggles for something else to say, the shock of future Lucy standing in his living room is clearly getting to him.

“Your hair’s grown a little longer,” he finally spits out. The curve of the ends reach past her collarbone now, unlike the last time he saw her. 

She picks up the end from where it rests on her shoulder and looks at it like she just now noticed that her hair has grown. 

_This is very strange_ , Wyatt thinks to himself. _Why is she even here?_

Her outfit reminds him so much of his Lucy that he suddenly misses her despite the almost exact mirror image in front of him. His Lucy is still soft, all her innocence not yet lost and he hates that this is apparently what she will become. 

_How does she turn out this way? What causes it? Why does he let it happen?_ His thoughts swirl with the _what if’s_ and he has to force himself to focus on the present instead of whatever his and her future holds. 

“Why are you here?” He asks again as he watches her wander the small living room, probably remembering the times they spent here together. 

“Jessica,” she says succinctly, with hardly any emotion. 

Wyatt rubs his hands down his face in exasperation. _Maybe I should have stayed in bed today_ , he thinks to himself.

“So, not only do I have to hear about this from you, I also have to hear about it from  
_you_ too?” Wyatt doesn’t know whether to bang his head against the nearest hard surface or try to make sense of two meddling Lucy’s.

Future Lucy gives him an unimpressed look and he almost wants to laugh because she looks so much like his unimpressed Lucy, like that time they chased Flynn to Las Vegas and Rufus tried to get her to wear a cigarette girl uniform. Not that he would have complained if she had decided to wear it, _his_ Lucy looks good in anything from any time, and he finds it hard to believe that any other woman could pull them off like she does.

_Stop tripping down memory lane, Wyatt. Jessica_ , he reminds himself, _we were talking about Jessica_.

____

____

____

____

“What about her?” Wyatt finally manages to spit out, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table with his hands between his knees.

His Lucy would have sat down beside him and tried to comfort him in some way, but _this_ Lucy just watches him from her position beside the empty fireplace — maybe it’s something to do with _her_ Wyatt — and he hopes to God that it isn’t because they aren’t together in the future. If he doesn’t have Lucy in the future, what’s the point of her coming to visit him like one of the spirits of Dickens’ _A Christmas Carol_.

“You should know that she’s a liar,” Lucy states matter-of-factly. 

“What has she lied about?” Wyatt pushes his bangs out of his face, shoulders tense in frustration. “Rittenhouse? Cause I already know all about that.”

“About the baby,” Lucy adds, unruffled by his apparent aggravation. 

Wyatt scoffs, despite all that Jessica has done to the team and the part she played in Rufus’s death, he can’t believe that she would lie to _him_ about something so important as a baby, _their_ baby. 

“I’ve seen her since Chinatown, she’s - well, she’s definitely pregnant,” Wyatt struggles with saying it out loud, not being able to be there, to be with her when she’s going through this time and it’s tearing him apart little by little. He tries to not let it show, but growing up the way he did, with the father that he did, well, he just wants to be there for his child and he can’t be. 

It’s future Lucy’s turn to scoff, “Oh, there’s no denying she’s pregnant, but the baby isn’t yours.” 

Wyatt is floored and he stands up suddenly, almost upsetting the coffee table. He paces the floor, barely aware of the concerned look that she is giving him. 

“What do you mean? She - she said it was mine,” Wyatt’s eyes flood with tears and he can barely see her face except for a smudge in his peripheral vision. 

_Why did you tell me this?_ He wants to yell _why are you tormenting me?_ but he knows she’s telling the truth, because Lucy would never lie to him. Even future her would know how much he relies on trust and speaking from the heart. 

“I’m sorry, Wyatt,” she says softly, and he can hear his Lucy in that voice, his friend, his partner and confidante. The person who comforted Rufus after he was forced to kill someone, befriended a young Agent Christopher and pushed Wyatt towards his wife, despite the crack that was forming in her own heart, because she thought it was what he wanted. 

He lets the tears fall at that moment, dropping onto the couch in defeat and self-loathing. His thoughts race and he feels his heart breaking again, just like when Jessica stole the Lifeboat and kidnapped Jiya and he had to admit to himself that she had been Rittenhouse the whole time. 

He barely perceives the sound of her footfalls on the rug and then she is in front of him — closer than he’s ever been to this “version” of her and he almost jerks back when she places her hands on his cheeks. She forces his head up until his gaze locks with hers, her eyes are softer than he’s seen but her hands are _his_ Lucy’s, her love apparent in the strokes of her thumbs against his damp cheeks.

“I know _you_ , Wyatt Logan. You can’t blame yourself for everything, some things are out of your control and this is definitely one of those times.” 

The warmth of the small palms reminds him of another time, another place — The Alamo — where she had saved his life by pleading for him to not give up and to keep on fighting. The familiar scent of her shampoo takes him back to all the times she’s run into his arms and more recently, waking up beside her each morning with her hair strewn across his pillow. 

He wants to look away from the intensity of her gaze, but there are no soldiers to defend himself from and no compatriots in need of his help, just the two of them and the damn clock, ticking away, time ever present and insistent. 

“ _Wyatt?_ ” She grips him harder, the hands that have held him in the night, pressing into his skin and dragging him once more out of the pit of his own self doubt. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” he manages to say around the lump of grief in his throat. He may not love Jessica anymore, Lucy is his future, he knows that without the film reel of future him and her departing from the Lifeboat playing over and over in his head, but the thought of “his” child never existing, _that_ is harder to take. 

She stares at him long and hard, her gaze searching his for signs that he’s lying, she knows him best after all. Seemingly satisfied, she drops her hands from his cheeks and sighs in apparent relief. 

“That’s how it’s always gonna be, huh?” Wyatt chuckled, swiping at the dampness on his face with a flannel sleeve. “Me, falling into the depths of my self loathing and pain and you, dragging me out again and again.” 

“You’ve saved me plenty of times as well. Don’t you remember?” Future Lucy asked, softly. “World War I France comes to mind, you saved me then — from Emma and my mother and then… The Murder Castle when H.H. Holmes had me locked in his Victorian torture chamber.”

“You saved me from the Murder Castle too, with Harry Houdini’s help, of all people.” Wyatt’s eyes shine with mild humor. She tries to shrug it off but he notices the small smile curving one corner of her mouth, the most expressive she has been since she showed up so unexpectedly. 

Wyatt shifts forward to the edge of the couch, sobering once again as he thinks about Jessica.

“Why did you come here to tell me about Jessica?” He asks. “I mean, why was it so important that I find out now and not later about - about the baby.”

He swallows down the lump in his throat, forcing the thoughts of “what could have been” back with stubborn determination. She looks away from his studied gaze with a toss of her longer curls and he bites his tongue to keep himself from blurting the question out again. 

“Jessica’s…” She finally starts, her voice steady and factual, “Well, you know this version of her can be, shall we say, a handful? She’s been giving us — me and _other_ Wyatt — _wow_ , that’s weird to say, trouble. And it’s not even Rittenhouse trouble. She’s basically using “your child” against us, attempting to get us to cave to her demands by threatening his welfare.”

“So she’s blackmailing us? I mean, you and him, with the child’s safety?” 

“Yes.”

“How did you find out the child isn’t mine?” He blurts out, unable to hold it in anymore. 

She tucks a curl behind her ear, slim fingers like those that pulled his head down for a goodbye kiss this morning, distracting him momentarily. 

“I didn’t think he wasn’t yours, at first. That moment when I saw him for the first time, it was like my heart was getting ripped out all over again. I was almost as shocked as I was when I heard about Jessica’s pregnancy when we were still living in the bunker.” 

Despite her purpose in coming here to tell him about the baby, Wyatt can still see some of the lingering pain behind her eyes and he curses himself all over again for letting her get hurt, when all he ever wanted to do was protect her. 

“But… I don’t know, I just always had this feeling that she wasn’t being completely truthful about it. Until he grew a little and didn’t look like every other blue-eyed baby and his facial structure started showing through the baby fat, that’s when I started to realize it.” 

“Who is he?” Wyatt didn’t have to clarify, he could tell by her face that Lucy knew who he meant. 

“I know his name, but he’s not anyone you would recognize. He’s a Rittenhouse operative and she was with him during your deployment.” 

“So she slept with some random Rittenhouse guy while I was on a deployment I don’t even remember?” Wyatt dug his fingers into the arm of the couch, wishing that it wasn’t as soft as it was - physical pain would distract him from the anguish currently squeezing his heart in a vice. 

While he had been agonizing about how he had basically cheated on Jess with Lucy — despite not knowing Jessica was alive — she had been sleeping around with some Rittenhouse jerk the whole time. His head aches with the various timelines and versions of his life that he doesn’t remember. 

Life was so much simpler when time travel was something he watched in movies, like _Back to the Future_ , when it wasn’t something he had experienced himself. 

“Wyatt.” Lucy called his name quietly. When he didn’t answer, she got up from her chair and crossed the living room to stand next to the couch where he sat ruminating.

“She’s not _your_ Jessica any longer, and this baby, it isn’t yours. I know that hurts you, believe me, I do, but you need to let them go.”

“I know you’re trying,” she continued. When he opened his mouth to say who knows what, she interrupted, “For you and your Lucy’s happiness, it has _got_ to happen.” 

She reaches over and squeezes his fist, white with tension where it rests on the couch. Her touch is light but enough to send an echoing memory of Lucy talking him through the pain of losing his grandpa Sherwin. He had been sitting alone in his grandpa’s living room — the memories of all the times they had sat together, his grandpa putting aside the newspaper while Wyatt switched on the tv so they could watch their favorite baseball team play — when she had come in, her black dress somber but the warmth of her closeness like sunshine when she had held his hand and let him grieve.

He smiles up at her gratefully, deciding then and there that he will try his damndest to be everything to his Lucy that she has been to him, and to let go of the pain of the past. 

The heartbreak is still present but the thought of future Lucy caring enough, loving _him_ enough, to come back and tell him the truth about Jessica’s lies fills him with just a little bit of hope for the future. _Their_ future. 

“I know it’s kind of weird to say but I’m glad _you_ were the one to tell me,” Wyatt pushed a hand through his hair, “As I’m sure you know, mine and Lucy’s relationship isn’t as steady as it once was and with all the Jessica drama, her mother and Rufus’s deaths, I don’t know if it could withstand any more hits without our relationship completely crumbling.” 

Lucy nodded once, thoughtfully. 

“Your relationship is so much stronger than you think, just give it time. Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know?” 

“Just don’t start giving me the facts on the entire history of Roman roads and architecture and I think we’ll get along just fine,” Wyatt teased. 

Future Lucy crinkled up her nose at him but kept her mouth shut. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence between them, the sound of a whining ambulance siren echoing down a nearby road was interrupted by a much closer and more insistent beeping. Future Lucy glanced down at the watch on her wrist and stood up almost immediately. Crossing to the window she glanced outside to the street below and murmured to herself. “Right on time.”

Before Wyatt could stand up from the couch she was walking out, a casual “See ya around,” called over her shoulder as the door closed with a click.

Blowing in and out of his apartment like a hurricane, future Lucy reminded him of how suddenly his Lucy had turned his world upside down. Before her his apartment had been a sad and lonely place with only enough accoutrements to get by. Now he lived a much better, more fulfilling life with the woman he loved, sharing a _home_ that actually felt like one whenever he walked in the door because she was always there beside him. 

The old brass doorknob turns again and Wyatt jerks his head up, a strange feeling of guilt flooding his chest, like he had been doing something wrong while other Lucy had only been sitting in their living room. Shaking his head at the mystery of two Lucy’s, he stands up and crosses the short distance to the door.

Almost as soon as he gets a glimpse of her pink coat and her brown curls, he has his arms wrapped around her, right where she is supposed to be. The clink of the key is a hollow echo in his ears as it hits the floor instead of the inside of the bowl where future Lucy had left hers. He presses his face up against her neck, the familiar apple shampoo smell tickling his nose as he breathes her in. 

“Wyatt, _what_?” She starts to speak, but he silences her with his lips, drawing her confusion and her questions in and allowing her presence to surround him. 

She wastes no time as he deepens the kiss. Her fingertips skim across his cheeks and up into his hair. He pulls her closer, arms bending around her waist and mentally curses the barriers of wool and denim between them. 

Threading a hand into the curls at the back of her neck, he lifts her feet from the ground as her hands drop from his hair to wrap around his shoulders. 

He put all of his appreciation and his love for her into his kiss. 

Every soft look, every loving caress, every moment of understanding that she had given him, had opened him to love again and nothing could take that away from him. Jessica’s loss and subsequent return had destroyed him, threatening to topple him into an abyss of alcohol-induced depression, self contempt and apathy. Lucy had pulled him out and showed him that there was still something to keep living for, a purpose to his life that didn’t revolve around death and pain, a family that had slowly grown up around them as a team.

He probably would have kept on kissing her, drawing her closer and losing himself in her if their bodies didn’t need the necessary oxygen to breathe. He pulled away from her with one last soft kiss, his chest heaving but his heart full and his mind untroubled for the first time in as long as he could remember.

“What was that for?” Lucy asks, breathlessly, tucking her disheveled curls behind her ears.

“Because I love you.” 

Wyatt stared into her beautiful brown eyes, his future with her filling his mind's eye with so much hope and opportunity… he was willing to work on himself, to become the man that she saw when she looked at him — the man she expected him to be. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.


End file.
